


you've just never seen the close-up of a haunting

by whataboutpierre (sunflowerwithfeelings)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Artist Grantaire, Fluff, Grantaire Has A Cat, Grantaire Has Issues, Grantaire Has Self-Esteem Issues, M/M, Mental Health Issues, SO, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, i got deep with this, theres a really important message in all of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 22:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerwithfeelings/pseuds/whataboutpierre
Summary: Grantaire doesn't show up for a meeting.Enjolras kisses his hands.The cats name is Nyx.





	you've just never seen the close-up of a haunting

_"Darling, this love will not cure me. And this love will not scrape the blood from the baseboards, but it will turn all the lights on." -Brenna Twohy_

* * *

 

Grantaire was one of the oldest of the Les Amis and had filtered into the group via Éponine some time a couple of years ago. Unlike people like Marius and Cosette, Grantaire was out of college and had a job and lived in his own apartment on the other side of town, it’s amazing how and why he even bothers showing up to meetings according to Enjolras. But, despite already admitting it to himself, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac, he would never tell Grantaire that his added commentary during these meetings is what made Enjolras want to attend even more than he already did.

When Grantaire texted Éponine last minute, giving an excuse as to why he couldn’t come, there was always a small ‘ping’ in Enjolras’s heart.

So when he didn’t come to a meeting and antsy Enjolras didn’t get a reply from Éponine saying why he was out, he became worried. It wasn’t like Enjolras to worry, unless it was a week till finals, then he could worry. But this was different, much different.

He knew it’d be rude to just barge in on Grantaire unexpectedly, because maybe he _did_ have something to do. Maybe he was out of town? Stopping that thought process there, he reached down into his jacket pocket and texted Grantaire.

 

**_You okay?_ **

 

Grantaire wasn’t one for replying on time and then giving a very good reply at that. Most of his texts were one word long or filled with shortened versions of words to make it that much smaller. But when he replied instantly with the sick emoji with the white cloth over it’s face, Enjolras’s worry bloomed into a full flower.

He descended the stairs to the subway and got on, hoping Grantaire was home and not at a bar, even if it was only 5:30 in the afternoon. The places the Les Amis had found Grantaire was another story altogether.

The place Grantaire lived in was actually pretty nice, but he did live alone, which always left Enjolras’s mouth sour after remembering that. Grantaire was a big boy, he could take care of himself. But on the days he couldn’t, no one lived close enough to help him every time he needed it.

Enjolras made his way to Grantaire’s door and hesitated slightly before knocking. He waited.

When no one came to the door, he knocked again. He waited.

He tried the doorknob and it was unlocked. He stepped inside and looked around at Grantaire’s apartment. It’d been awhile since he’d been here. The walls were a light grey, very monochromatic for an artist. The furniture was either black or white or a color that sat between them. His easel was next to a huge window, no canvas but you could tell it had just been used that day from the paint bottles littering the floor space around it. Not to mention a chair from the kitchen table was missing and sitting in front of it.

Enjolras found the room he suspected was Grantaire’s, a light breathing could be heard from inside. Using the tip of his knuckle, Enjolras knocked on the door as he opened it, locking his eyes directly on Grantaire, who was safe and snug in his bed.

The blond had many questions.

First, how did Grantaire manage to get white paint in his hair? He could imagine how he could maybe get on his face, but hair? How disassociated do you have to be?

Second, a pair of pants lay on the floor right in front of the bed, so did this mean Grantaire was sleeping pantless? He bothered to take his pants off but not the paint in his hair?

Third, and most definitely the most important, why was there a cat propped on the top of Grantaire’s side as he slept? The cat was one of those white, black, and tan ones--calico maybe? It rose and fell as Grantaire breathed in his sleep and it purred ever so softly.

The blanket was wrapped around Grantaire, covering his face from the nose down. They looked like a pair of sleeping angels.

How could Enjolras deny the tugging on his heart?

Grantaire furrowed his eyebrows and hummed like he was about to wake up. Enjolras’s mind instantly turned on its red, flashing lights, screaming ‘GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT.’ But before he could turn and obey his thoughts, Grantaire’s eyes were already open as well as the cats.

“Hi,” Grantaire croaked.

“Hey, you okay?” Enjolras asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

“No,” Grantaire replied plainly. Enjolras could tell Grantaire’s will and want to talk was caught somewhere between his brain and his throat, getting lost in his mouth.

Enjolras closed the door behind him and, looking back around, his heart swelled. Grantaire had rolled onto his back, the cat now stretching its little legs and arms out, giving out a big yawn. As soon as Enjolras got close to the bed, the cat jumped down and onto the floor, Enjolras trying to not let that damage him too much. He walked around the bed and slid in on the other side, laying next to Grantaire.

It wasn’t awkward or weird. It was comforting and warm. Grantaire stared at the ceiling fan for a long time before turning his head and locking eyes with Enjolras. He smiled warmly at Grantaire, who in turn offered a smile back.

Grantaire rolled over to his other side so the two faced each other, neither of them caring about distance between them. Enjolras could count every lash on Grantaire’s eyes, but that was besides the point.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while. Then Grantaire spoke up.

“Why are you here?”

Enjolras just smiled and rolled his eyes before whispering, “you weren’t at the meeting and you didn’t text Éponine, so I got worried.”

“I didn’t?” Grantaire asked, his hands bringing the blanket back over his nose. “I could of swore I did. But I’ve been in and out of sleep all day.”

Enjolras scooted his upper-half closer to Grantaire, who didn’t seem to mind. If laying here all day with him is what Grantaire wanted, so be it.

Grantaire looked at Enjolras’s hands as they folded at the wrist and almost linked together. He wanted to reach out and hold Apollo’s hand. “I thought you hated me,” he said smiling. “Why worry about a stupid sap artist like myself?”

The blond scoffed and _dramatically_ rolled his eyes, which earned a chuckle out of Grantaire. “Because you’re a human and I care about you.”

“You care about me because I’m human?”

“No!--ugh.” This was difficult. “I care about you because you’re you.”

Now, Grantaire reached his hand out and dragged his pointer finger along Enjolras’s wrist, before taking his hand in his. “Well thank you for...caring.”

Grantaire couldn’t tell if this was a dream or real-life, it was closer to a dream than anything. Enjolras traveling to see him and then _lay in his bed this close to him._ Wild. A concept Grantaire’s brain was probably wildly exploring. He’d heard of lucid dreaming, maybe that’s what this was.

But the grip Enjolras had on Grantaire’s hand said otherwise. It begged Grantaire’s brain to let him believe that this was real. It implored Grantaire to stop thinking like that, like he didn’t deserve to have happiness like this.

Enjolras saw Grantaire start to fade his focus out as he stared at their intertwined hands. Enjolras lifted his hand and kissed the top of Grantaire’s, the latter snapping back into reality and looking doughy-eyed at Enjolras. Like he’d just performed a miracle.

Somewhere below the bed, the cat purred and shook its head, the noise of a bell ringing lightly in the room.

Grantaire saw Enjolras move in close so he pulled the blanket from off his face, but Enjolras had other plans. Instead, he lifted up and kissed Grantaire firmly on the forehead, the paint already dried but either way he wouldn’t have cared. It was sweet. It was exactly what Grantaire needed.

Before Grantaire could do anything, the pretty feline he had jumped back up on the bed and walked right in between Grantaire and Enjolras’ faces. Looking at Grantaire first, the cat, Nyx, nudged her head at his face. He kissed her and when she had lovingly rubbed her face on him, she turned to Enjolras and did the same thing. Enjolras giggled as she did so. She turned around and walked to the opposite end of the bed, in the space between their legs, and laid down.

“I think she likes you,” Grantaire smiled looking at Nyx  then back at Enjolras.

They laid like that for the rest of the day, only once did Enjolras leave Grantaire’s side and that was because Nyx had meowed, asking to be fed. Grantaire instructed Enjolras where the food was and within five minutes, the blond was back by his side. Just for good measure, Enjolras decided to stay the night, texting Combeferre, who he was sure would be more than ecstatic to have the apartment all to himself for a night.

Then this became the norm until Grantaire had taken a big step into asking Enjolras to come live with him. On days like before, they’d lay in bed, Nyx laying on top of their intertwined legs because there wasn’t a place that girl wouldn’t sleep, until Enjolras could silently melt all of Grantaire’s sadness away and convince him to go do something.

And then on the bad days, when Enjolras couldn’t coax the chemicals in Grantaire’s brain to balance, he’d simply hold him all night. He wasn’t clingy but realized that there was a time when you held your boyfriend, mid-panic attack, on the floor of your bathroom, and when you sat him on the couch by himself to watch Skin Wars or The Great British Bakeoff.

“You can’t love me out of this, I will always be like this,” Grantaire had whispered to him as they were cuddling on the couch, the tv in the background becoming white noise.

“I know, and that’s okay. Because I love you, and I’m going to keep loving you for you.” He kissed the top of Grantaire’s scalp and rubbed his shoulder. Grantaire let out a puff of air as to laugh. Enjolras smiled and pressed his cheek to Grantaire’s head, “I’m serious.”

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting at the back of my mind for awhile now and I didn't know if I should do it in the first place or not and even how I'd do it. The message that you can't love someone out of their mental illness is extremely important to me as I have major depression and past-lovers have tried to "love me out of it" and I feel like sometimes people feel that way about ships too. Just because someone meets their soulmate or the love of their life doesn't mean the illness goes away suddenly, it's already unpacked it's bags. And yes, with professional help, some people do eventually resolve most of their disorder, but it isn't always like that. 
> 
> The quote at the beginning and the inspiration for the title of the story is from [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Rj3mxA_wZA) poem by Brenna Twohy. 
> 
> You can find me [here](http://queersunflowers.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3


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